


Tenderness mixed with violence

by fearthe_unusual



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Blood and Injury, Horror, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Zombie Apocalypse, Psychological Horror, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29915412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearthe_unusual/pseuds/fearthe_unusual
Summary: Ed comes back to take Oswald to safety, from an increasingly dangerous world. READ ON TO FIND OUT MORE!
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot & Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	1. Confusion

**Author's Note:**

> I will be adding more characters and tags to this as I go, also expect the rating to possibly go up as the story progresses. Please leave comments! They spur me on to continue, I have some ideas on where this might go. 
> 
> This takes place sometime near the end of Gotham, diverging in a different direction to the canon. The words in italics are Oswald's thoughts.

Oswald awakes with one of the worst headaches he has ever experienced, stabbing pains reducing his eyesight to only just make out the room around him. Sitting up induces a queasy feeling all over his body. _How have I got here?_ _where IS here?_

Bright, puncturing white. No windows; one door that was clearly locked from the outside. ~~Clean~~ Sterile-looking. Observing the room there is no clear way out or indication of where he was other than, at a guess, some type of hospital. _No, what kind of a hospital locks it’s patients in._

This wasn’t making much sense but then again nothing ever did in Gotham and Oswald had become accustomed to adapting to any situation, however out of the ordinary. 

He tries to think back, he remembers being betrayed by Edward (s _urprise there)_ before Jim Gordon came to do the arresting. The last place Oswald should be, he thought, were a jail cell. Though the events behind his incarceration were still a mystery to him. 

Suddenly, the jolt of the door’s metal lock opening made Oswald’s survival side kick in, clambering out of bed and towards a table that he spied held several surgical tools, _of some use for a weapon._

The jailor walked through the door and he readied himself, scalpel raised in a feeble attempt at attacking his foe, at escaping whatever fresh hole this was- 

“Oswald it’s me!” his vision wasn’t the best still but the flash of green before him slowly morphed into the shape of Edward, the voice finalising that it was, in fact, him. This didn’t make Oswald want to lower the weapon anymore as he lunged forward, intent on inflicting some harm. 

Edward easily reaches out and pries the tool from his hands, setting it upon the table, “Yes, me, will you just calm down and listen before you jump to conclusions.” 

His brain throbs against his skull, making him wince and scrunch his eyes in pain, dropping his defences. 

“C’mon, we have to get you back to bed before you keel over.” 

Edward slots an arm through Oswald’s before he can protest and practically lifts him onto the bed.

“I’ll get some pain medication for you,” he opens some drawers in the side table, searching through mountains of obviously stolen supplies. 

Oswald resigns to the fact that he isn’t capable of much right now, laying back on the bed and giving in to exhaustion. 

*** 

Once he awakens for a second time, the sensation of a warm compress is being applied to his forehead and it feels so soothing that it takes a few seconds to realise Edward is applying it. 

“Wha-where,” he starts forward, before Edward pushes him gently back down.

“Just, rest. you will hurt yourself further. I’ll explain everything.” 

This isn’t completely unnatural for them, tenderness mixed with violence, it was just never a sure thing which one stuck. 

Edward settles back down in the seat next to the bed once he’s content Oswald won’t try to attack him, pushing the flannel back down and holding it in place. Oswald registers that the pain in his head has all but disappeared but enjoys the feelings of having Edward fuss over him, _mus_ _t be the medication_. 

“You were at the GCPD after being arrested by Jim Gordon, it was all going according to _my_ plan. I had to assure you were there before I would be able to extract you, before it all broke loose. It was the only chance of survival.” 

Edward ‘s expression looked frightened, as he talks about Oswald’s survival, as though he were worried about an alternate outcome. 

“I-I had to get you out, get us away. We are in my hideout I had, a bunker, just outside the city in case situations such as this were to arise.” 

Oswald wasn’t quite sure whether he was still dreaming or had hit his head or both. _Is this one of Edward’s_ _games_ _, told in such a fashion that it’s sole purpose_ _was_ _to toy with it’s_ _victim?_

“Ed,” he sighs, “I really cannot be both-” 

Ed stands, gripping Oswald by the shoulders and looking into his eyes, “I am not joking Oswald, you can’t leave. We’re safe here for now...you will be safe. I will look after you.” he relaxes his grip and settles back into the chair as though trying to reassure himself of what he just said. 

The mood had shifted. Oswald felt real fear for the first time but not for himself, for mistaking Edward and what was happening here and why none of it made sense. He hadn’t seen Edward with fear in his eyes for a very long time, he was always so sure of himself, they both were. 

“Ed, what happened? Please tell me.” His voice much softer, “I-I don’t know what is going on and I just want to understand.” 

He tried to regain eye contact with Edward, who was now pacing the room., riddled with anxiety. This was the first time Oswald realisied he hadn’t seen his friend in such a state for years, his usual well-kept look was fraying at the edges. He wore a green shirt that was dirty and torn at the sleeves, unbuttoned at the top. His trousers were not pressed like they usually were, and he wore lace-up boots that were covered in mud. The looks of a man who had been through the wars. 

“Ed...” Oswald pushed himself up onto his elbows, only now realising that Edward must have re-clothed him also, he would never wear the clothing that was currently adorning his body; a black ensemble of combat trousers, jumper and boots not dissimilar to Edwards. _But why?_

“Oswald, I acted because I care about you.” He turned to face him, the weariness evident in every move, “and I couldn’t lose you.” 

Such truth, so easily given, Oswald wasn’t sure whether to be happy at the words or be scared at why they were now being given. 

“Ed, I..” Oswald shifted his legs round the bed, attempting to stand. Edward rushed over to aid him, scooping an arm under his and supporting Oswald as he stood on both feet. “Careful Oswald, easy.” 

Once steady on his feet, they looked at each other square in the eyes, feeling such warmth come from Edward was unexpected. 

“Thank you, Ed. It sounds like you saved me-” Edward reaches his arms around Oswald to envelope them into a hug, holding him tight. This surprised Oswald even more who allows himself to sink into the touch. 

The need for answers was pressing though. 

“Ed, can you tell me what happened?” he murmurs into Ed's shoulder. 

He could feel the tight embrace slacken, as though he had mentioned a taboo subject, something Ed wanted to avoid at all costs. He stops hugging Oswald but remains at his side, adjusting the glasses on his nose.

“Until I am measured, I am not known, yet how you miss me when I have flown. What Am I? 

Oswald studies his face, unable to comprehend the absurdity of their entire exchange. It was so like Ed to embellish with a riddle, but he was hiding the full truth. 

“Time. But what-” 

“Time has passed Oswald, lots of it.” he sinks himself into a chair in the corner of the room, taking off his glasses to twist them in his fingers as he speaks, “Since I took you from the GCPD 10 months ago, so much has changed. I’ve been coming in here every day in the hope you’ll wake up, “he looks up again, 

“You’ve been in a coma, Oswald.” 

Oswald stands frozen, trying to process what he was being told. 

“Maybe you should sit, I'll tell you the rest. Here, have some water.” he gestures to the other chair opposite him handing Oswald the glass, who downs the water in one go, only just realising he was gasping with thirst, his mind whirring with questions but waits for Ed to continue as he sits down. 

“I knew about the government having these...” he ponders for the right word, _“weapons,_ in their possession, but I never really paid much attention to them. I certainly never thought to them entering the public domain. They were always kept as pure deterrents, never to be used, experimental. In the name of science, a lot of this goes on, it’s nothing unusual. I never knew it would get out, but the minute I found out I concocted a plan to keep both of us safe, though you getting hurt in the extraction process was something I hadn’t anticipated, the route of infection was much quicker than I though-” 

Oswald drops the glass he had been holding, shattering glass everywhere. His hands were shaky and his eyes wild, “Will you _please-”_ he stopped for a second, catching his breath and looking back at Ed pleadingly, “please tell me the plain truth. Why we are in an underground bunker.” 

Edward pulls his chair closer to Oswald, checking over his hands for any glass shards, “That’s the bad part I was just getting to, the world has been overrun by infected.” 

Oswald sneers, tearing his hands away in fury, 

“Now you're trying to tell me, what?! about zombies! This must be an elaborate plot to deceive me, I do applaud you Edward. How much of a fool do you take me for?” he goes to stand and yet Edward sits still, rigid, keeping Oswald rooted to the chair. 

“Yes Oswald, if you want to call it that.” There is no smile on his face, only exhaustion, he goes on.

“Though the science behind it is much more complex but it doesn’t really matter. I only care about us now and getting you back to full health.” 

Oswald’s too shocked to move or say anything as Edward pulls him into another embrace, feeling a shudder run down his spine that all of it may well be the truth and he has awoken into an entirely new world. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things may be taking a turn for the strange and dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be different but trying out some new ideas, next chapter is explained more. I love david lynch and anything out of the ordinary but if this isn't your cup of tea that's cool, please share your thoughts! This story will take a turn in many different directions as it progresses.

“The world is indeed comic, but the joke is on mankind.” ~H.P Lovecraft.

* * *

The grounds were an exhibition of decay; no life, not here.

A barren land as far as the eye could see, with one building amidst it, grey and long abandoned. Vines twisted and coiled upwards like a treacherous knot of snakes, stalking the walls yet indifferent to his presence completely.

This place did not care for him, yet he cared for it.

The smell of...death. it lingered in the night air, fresh and strangely comforting. This was nothing unexpected here, not in his world. This place was as ancient as it could be to him and it stood the test of time because it wasn't interested in playing a part.

Looking up, he saw he was standing under large, bent over trees that were devoid of any leaves or colour. He had drawn trees like these as a child, wise in his years, imagining them in the harsh state of winter with nothing growing and nothing alive, hunched over such as he was most of the time. They were hiding from the world and fighting it simultaneously.

After all, the world meant to do you harm, did it not?

The silence crashed against his ear drums, he could do nothing with silence. Well, there was the wind chill, whistling it's way across the grounds as it joined the harsh rain in celebration, that they were slowly making their way to his bones, seeping in and residing there, like a cancer. He couldn’t shake it, this feeling of pure hopelessness.

There it was again! That face!

He ran, as fast as his pained legs would carry him, into the dark and lonely depths of the building. At first, the premise of not being outside anymore felt like a relief, but soon the falsehood of that thought fell away and all he had left was more silence, more than he could bare. He was utterly, and completely, alone. Alone, confined and unwelcome. 

There was no turning back now, moving forward was the only direction that could be taken, straight ahead. No options and no changes and no caring. Coming down the hallway floorboards were unsteady and moved away from him, as though trying to make it clear he wasn't supposed to be here, pushing him out. He was a stranger in an unknown land. He had an urge to force this place to understand, they could all open their arms to him then. He could be loved and adored. Adoration was unobtainable yet so desperately _wanted_. Longed for, in fact. 

There were old, clay figurines atop a table in the centre of the room; he had arrived somewhere at last. Unless this wasn't where he were meant to be and in that case, all of this was for nought. It didn't matter either way, the doing was more important that the achieving. 

These weren't his thoughts, his mind saying these things, he had never-

It was impossible to study the figurines as much as he tried to focus on their morphed shape. They felt important. Someone, somewhere outside of this place, had given him a figurine before which was made just for him, about him. Holding one in the palm of his hands brought feelings so foreign they filled him with fear. The blue illumination under the door-but, when did the door appear? 

It jumped out to him, suggesting it were a good idea to go through it. Go towards it. And yet-yet something was holding him back as he turned over the figurines in his hands, carefully avoiding looking anywhere but down. It was so cold. Why was outside in and inside out, the floor covered in vines and branches crawling over him-

It felt like he was finally going mad when, suddenly, a voice filled the empty room, heating the stone cold walls.

_Oswald._

That was his name, wasn’t it?

_Oswald._

It spoke clearer now, but this place needed it's silence. He prayed the voice would quieten, but it only got louder.

_**Oswald!** _

The vines were close, creeping and inside everything, making their way to him so they could devour until nothing was left. 

* * *

"Oswald?" 

He took a second to adjust to what was happening and, where he had been. No, he hadn't been anywhere, but it sure felt like it. 

"A-Yes, Ed. Yes I-" 

He sat up, looking into Ed's eyes. There were no words for whatever it was he had just experienced, a lucid dream of sorts? a descent into madness? Ed of all people might understand but he couldn't tell him now. 


End file.
